Revival
by metallic-monkey101
Summary: Eragon's finally returned to his home for some peace. Unfortunately trouble seems to enjoy hunting him...Sorry the summary sucks, I'm not good at them. The story is better!


**Chapter One: Homecoming**

**A/N: Hehe…my friend told me to write this as my author's note. I'm simply honoring her request. It's the least I can do, she edits everything for me (she is Evil Clone Number 7, check her out!)! **

"**As you can probably tell – or will probably be able to tell; you haven't read it yet- this story is a little AU. Well, actually, AU isn't really the word for it. It's not like everyone got put into high school or anything. It's just a little "different" most of the changes in the story will be revealed as the story progresses, but for now you should know that it takes place after Eragon's adventures and the death of Galbatorix and the Ra'zac, Carvahall was not attacked or destroyed, the townspeople never had to leave. That's about it, but watch out for some others!" **

Eragon dismounted his young black stallion.

He stood on a small trail overlooking a small valley. Smoke rose from the buildings of Carvahall and the sounds of horses and oxen echoed through the mountains. He looked towards the starry sky above him.

Saphira was no where in sight. _Good, she's hidden._

They both understood that hiding was no longer necessary, but Carvahall was a secluded town and probably hasn't heard news of him or Saphira.

They may not even have heard of the king's death.

But now the trader's had arrived and rumors were being stretched and exaggerated.

Eragon sighed and turned his attention to a large puddle alongside the rugged road.

He had changed.

His short messy hair, while still shaggy, was smooth and now appeared somewhat cared for. His once tender body was now strong and lean from years of rigorous training and tiresome traveling. His clothing was made of the finest materials; they felt lighter than air and gave him an elegant demeanor.

Eragon turned away from the puddle and began to lead his stallion down the winding path. A wolf's howl pierced the night, but Eragon easily calmed the animal next to him. Eragon kept in constant contact with him. He remembered the first time saw the magnificent steed. With a body like a steel trap, defined muscles pulsing under a beautiful ebony hide, Eragon was captivated by the beast and immediately purchased him.

Eragon had named him Brom, after the last true Rider of old and his father.

Time passed slowly, but soon Eragon reached Carvahall. He was aware of the stares following him as he weaved his way through the town, making his way towards Brom's small cabin. It was unusual for anyone other than the traders to visit Carvahall, but for one of obviously high stature…

It was unheard of.

Eragon grew more and more anxious.

He dreaded meeting Roran.

It had been five long years since Eragon's uncle had been killed and his flight from Carvahall, leaving his cousin behind. Since then he had changed, but he always worried. He would be severely hurt if Roran didn't forgive him, but he would understand.

_Don't worry, little one. You are still you. _

Saphira's words comforted him.

_I know. It's jus…t "me" has changed, both in mind and body._

_Not your heart, nor your beliefs. _

Eragon laughed.

_That's not what I'm worried about._

He came to a halt in front of the cabin. The wood was wet and rotting, but the place looked untouched. Eragon's heart lightened. He pushed the deteriorating cloth door aside and entered the cabin. The floor creaked beneath him, but he smiled.

Everything was the same.

Books lay scattered on the floor, table and shelves. A small bed was cramped in the corner as if it endeavored to be forgotten. A large chest rested near the back wall. It was a breathtaking chest, covered in the beautiful designs and lined with oxidized bronze. Eragon picked his across the room towards it.

Magic locked it.

Eragon examined the lock, trying to determine what protected it. He called to Saphira and allowed her to look through his eyes, but even she didn't know. Eragon decided to try a simple spell. It may work. Carvahall was not a place of magic and Eragon doubted Brom expected anyone to open it.

That is, until the right one came.

Eragon began to speak. The ancient words came out slowly and full of emotion.

"_I am Eragon, Rider and son of Brom. Open and allow me to gaze upon your forgotten treasures."_

He heard a faint click. He cautiously leaned forward, touching the chest with his right palm.

It opened.


End file.
